


it's not christmas without you

by reas_of_sunshine



Series: Goldie O'Gilt is Definitely Not a Family Woman [3]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Bittersweet, Christmas Presents, F/M, Fluff, Gift Giving, Holidays, So Married, but it's all good stuff, chants: jewish gos jewish gos jewish gos, goldie in full aunt mode, scrooge realizing she's Mysterious, soft, spot the references to mickey's once upon an xmas, there is some feels but not enough to warrant sad tags, this was part of my nano, you're welcome carl barks i wrote the orphanage manager goldie stories you couldn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-01-29 04:50:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21404476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reas_of_sunshine/pseuds/reas_of_sunshine
Summary: Time after time, year after year, Scrooge and Goldie have almost always spent Christmas apart. And if they are together by happenstance, it's fleeting and for only a few hours—and as much as Scrooge despises the holiday, he can't shake off the sentiment of being with the woman he loves. Meanwhile, Goldie has her own holiday plans that may or may not be interrupted by her one and only sentimental sourdough.Needless to say, this will be a Christmas to remember.
Relationships: Scrooge McDuck/"Glittering" Goldie O'Gilt
Series: Goldie O'Gilt is Definitely Not a Family Woman [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540915
Comments: 33
Kudos: 94





	1. cause i don't have a clue what to get you (and i'm ready to say "bah humbug!")

**Author's Note:**

> lmao for once i started a scroldie xmas fic and have posted it,,, this is gonna be about a two or three shot  
anYWAY loose sequel to my goldie & gosalyn fic so i decided to make it a series; check that story out if you want some aunt goldie goodness  
this is some aunt goldie goodness + christmas scroldie on the side  
eNJOY

What do you get the Richest Duck in the world for Christmas— sounded like the beginning line to a bad joke. But it was the honest question Goldie was asking herself right now as she skimmed through her list of those she had to give gifts to. Her kids, of course, were at the top.

A new skateboard for Leyla, a packet of journals and fancy pens for Ryan, a vintage Darkwing Duck alarm clock for Gosalyn.

Most of her kids were old enough to stop believing in the man with the bag, but it was a little endearing how a good majority of them wrote letters anyway. Maybe due to the holiday spirit or childhood playfulness and whatnot.

But even if they didn’t, Goldie knew her kids well enough to know what to get them.

And to think, she had known most of the kids for maybe a year or two, maximum. Scrooge, she had known for decades and she was stumped, staring at the walls, trying to figure out what to get him. She had mulled through ideas over and over before realizing it was no good, it was tacky or cliche, he wouldn’t like it, he already had one (or multiple) of those…

“Hey, Miss O’Gee, you got some kinda fancy mail,” 

Goldie didn’t look up. “It’s probably bills, tell ‘em to stick it up their—”

“No, it’s fancy. Like, this paper feels like it’s worth a bajillion dollars,” 

Goldie gave in and looked up. Gosalyn was standing in front of her desk, staring at what was indeed a very fancy envelope. “I doubt it’s worth a ‘bajillion’ dollars,” she replied while holding out her hand and squinting at the golden lettering.

(Because she refused to use her glasses in front of her kids. Kids were ruthless, after all.)

_ Miss Goldie R. O’Gilt _

_ 97 Audubon Bay Boulevard, Duckburg, CA _

It was mail for her, alright.

“What’s the R stand for?” Gosalyn asked, with a cheeky smile.

“It stands for Really-None-of-Your-Business,” Goldie muttered.

“Your parents were weird,”

“You’re weird,”

The comeback was pathetic and immature but Gosalyn accepted it with a grin and a confident, “You know it,”

Thankfully, she bounded off to go cause chaos elsewhere and left Goldie alone to mull over the mail. She knew there was only one person who would be sending her such an elegant invitation. As for how he had found her address was another thing…

She tore the envelope open and slid out the small, rectangular piece of paper that was inside, with handwriting as equally elegant as the addressing on the envelope.

_ you are invited to the McDuck Manor Christmas party _

_ December 24th, 6pm to midnight _

She had read enough. Scrooge was doing that again, was he?

He hadn’t hosted such an event in years, decades even—but she figured with the whole moon thing, and getting that niece of his back, he was back in his usual spirits. Goldie had attended the grand event back then, but then again, that was then. She theoretically could have gone this time around. Yet she had someone, several someones, she’d much rather spend the holiday with. 

Was she getting sentimental? No such thing.

She didn’t want those rowdy kids to burn the place down. That was all.

She threw the classy invitation in the trash and went back to making her present list. Bette would want a (foam) dart gun — and Goldie was excited to help her in target practice — and Marley was fond of bedazzling their clothing…

The invitation almost winked at Goldie in the trash can.

She shoved some extra papers over top of it.

**————**

Scrooge was going to pace a path into the flooring of his office at this point.

Of course, it was foolish for him to expect a reply; and he knew he had the right address (had known for quite some time now, mulling over why it had been so secretive, but that was for later). But he expected  _ something  _ back, in her own special Goldie way. She almost never left him hanging. Key word being almost, of course. He scowled and spluttered and muttered to himself, each thump of his cane echoing along with his steps that he didn’t even notice a knock on the door.

He did, however, catch wind of the verbal _ “knock-knock”  _ Della said as she entered his office.

“Uncle Scrooge, I need your advice,”

“Put stock in that Netchicks company, lass,”

“Wha— no, stocks put me to sleep, you know that,” Della rolled her eyes and waved the piece of paper in her hand. “I know it’s, like, your least favorite holiday right up there with your birthday but I gotta make my first Christmas with the boys count,”

Scrooge looked at her blankly, with a face that said  _ isn’t it obvious. _ “Give them their first bank accounts,”

Della frowned a bit. “Yeah, Louie did put that on his list, actually, but he doesn’t have enough in his piggybank to meet the minimum,” she said. “I’m just gonna get him one of those coin counter banks,”

“And I imagined Dewey asked for something outlandish?”

“Yeah, a pet tiger, actually. I know you’re crazy rich, but that’s just crazy,”

“He’ll never forget Dewey Junior, will he now,” Scrooge sighed.

Della tilted her head a bit. Scrooge waved a hand to brush it off. “Teach them the value of a dollar or somethin’ of that sort— I’m terrible at presents, Della, why are you asking me? Try Donald; not like he bought presents for the boys for the past decade,”

Holding up her list that was mostly doodles and scribbles, Della sighed.

“I would ask Donald, but he’s on my list too. I’m getting him his Dreamboat,”

“Yer gettin’ him a dreamboat? For Christmas?”

“No,” Della laughed. “Well, yeah. Not that kind you’re thinking of. It was this thing from when we were kids,”

Scrooge nodded. “Well, so long as it’s not another contraption that takes you kids away,” he mumbled.

“Don’t worry,” Della affirmed. “I don’t have time to build a contraption,” That did little to ease his worries but he accepted what he could. She pulled a pen from her jacket and scribbled more onto her supposed list. “I dunno, I’m going for something they want but also something that shows how much I care, y’know? Giving them a new video game isn’t gonna do that,”

“Right,” Scrooge said, his voice now soft and he eyed his desk.

Where the parchment paper he had written the invitation still remained. 

“You know what,” Della murmured. “I know exactly what to get Huey! Thanks, Uncle Scrooge!”

Barely nodding, Scrooge began to make his way back to his desk just as Della left his office and excitedly closed the door behind her. He rummaged around for a piece of scrap paper and grabbed a pen, beginning to doodle. 

Scrooge McDuck wasn’t typically a generous man when it came to gift-giving.

But his niece had made a great point about it. And it had been decades since he last gave someone a Christmas gift — an actual Christmas gift, not just a savings bond or gift card (to something owned by McDuck Industries, of course).

It wouldn’t kill him to call a shop or two in downtown Duckburg, would it now?


	2. we were dreamers not so long ago (but one by one we all had to grow up)

Scrooge suddenly remembered why he disliked gift giving. It wasn’t all the thought he had to put into it or the spending money part — although that part wasn’t exactly his favorite. It was going around to find the so-called perfect gift. And calling a shop or two turned into calling several shops that he was starting to lose count and well, he didn’t feel like galavanting about in a crowded mall or downtown center.

“Is this the part where you deny your care for her?” Beakley asked, while pouring him a new cup of tea.

Scrooge grumbled and slammed the phone book shut. “Half of these shops are closed or replaced!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, perhaps you should utilize that computer you spent hundreds on,” she sighed.

“I donnae trust the thing,” Scrooge grumbled. “Not since it started beeping,”

“I’m fairly certain that’s the notification it needs to be charged,”

He stewed over his tea and frowned. “What do you get Webbigail for the holidays?”

Beakley furrowed her brow. “With all due respect, Scrooge, what an eleven year old wants for her ‘Birthmas’ as she calls it and… whatever Miss O’Gilt likes are on two entirely different spectrums,” She took a peek at the scribbled list on his desk. “For example, Webby would never ask for or want such high end items. She wrote her first list at five years old and all she asked for, strangely enough, was ‘vengeance’ — I got her a Quacky Patch doll, but that’s besides the point,”

Scrooge was practically pouting in his chair now.

“Did the invitation go to the right address?” she mused.

“You got it for me,” he said confidently. “It was the right address. I’m just puzzled why Goldie would keep such a thing from me,”

His voice tapered off into something soft at the last few words, and he sipped his tea thoughtfully.

“Yes, maybe the orphanage is all a cover and she’s using the children as pawns to run an underground crime ring,” Beakley commented, a small smirk on her face and her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Scrooge looked at her, baffled.

Beakley sighed and shook her head.

_ **————** _

Goldie didn’t have just Christmas to be worried about. She also had other plans going on. Honestly, and Scrooge thought she had time to attend a frivolous Christmas party. Well, he did think that. It was not like he knew—

—but he did know where to send the invitation. 

That thing was taunting her, still in the trash.

“Miss O’Gilt?”

Goldie cleared her throat and switched her phone from one ear to the other. “Yeah, I heard you,” she replied. “You want to adopt her for Christmas. I just have one question, sir,”

“Yes?”

“How many Hall-Lark movies have you watched in your lifetime?”

He laughed like it was a joke. She was serious, but she pencilled it into her pocket calendar anyway. And despite the joke, she did think it was a bit sweet. Sure would make any lonely kid’s Christmas, after all. Getting a family and a home was on a lot of the younger kids lists (the ones who still believed in Santa, and eagerly asked her to mail the letters)—and maybe a few of them made Goldie tear up. 

Maybe.

Not definitely.

Not like she had once known what it was like to be so little and so lonely.

“So, what, do you want to show up in a Santa suit or something?”

“I _could_ ask my boyfriend, but he’s Jewish,”

Goldie rolled her eyes and was quiet for a moment.

“Oh! Oh, that was another joke. You’re very funny, Miss O’Gilt, you should get into comedy,”

“Uh-huh,” she said flatly. “So Christmas morning work?”

“Christmas morning is perfect. I’ll be there,”

The call ended there and Goldie sighed as she put her cell phone down. She stared at her pocket calendar again, a small leatherbound book with other notes, but her eyes fixated on the 25th. Which was only a few days away from now.

She heard scuffling a few rooms away, a crash — probably another broken lamp or window — and actually had to smile.

She only had a few days left with Gosalyn.

Which was bittersweet. Because yes, she’d admit it, she had grown fond of the rowdy young girl. It was always the scrappy ones that won Goldie’s heart. She liked to cheer for the underdog. And Gosalyn had grown a lot in the time she had first arrived; back when she was always angry and picked fights with anyone and everyone, always ran off because she thought she’d just get kicked out anyway…

...and Goldie wouldn’t give up on her.

Never had. 

Besides, she did promise Gosalyn a home and a family. Goldie would be the first to admit she was a selfish woman, but she had her limits. Hurting children emotionally or heaven forbid otherwise was off limits. (Hurting their wallets was another thing; built character, and they could always replace it.)

Goldie sighed softly to herself and decided to go on and check what Gosalyn broke this time. And maybe she’d cherish the moment instead of become annoyed with it.

Well, not quite cherish it, seeing as the kids had now gotten into a yelling match.

Sometimes Goldie wondered why she got involved in this whole fostering business.

She almost skulked down the hall when she was abruptly stopped by a yank on the hem of her shirt. She looked down — it was a move only pulled by the youngest of the kids, the one who were left outside firehouses and hospitals that had been there for too long and hadn’t been noticed. The ones who were a little too old to be left there, the ones too big to fit in a basket.

“I gots my letter,” the little goldfinch girl beamed, her words running together in a bit of a lisp due to her missing front teeth. “For Santas,”

“Oh,” Goldie tried not to wince at the tissue covered in crayon and… a mysterious liquid.

She remembered why toddlers and kindergarten age were her least favorite.

“This is _great,_ Emily,”

Goldie couldn’t make out a single word of the letter. But the four year old beamed and clapped, very proud of herself. And just when she thought an escape was easy—

“Do you wants me to reads it?”

Well, that would certainly help. Goldie bit her tongue from accidentally saying that out loud and just settled for a nod, handing the napkin back to the little girl. Emily cleared her throat and scrunched up the napkin. The exact opposite action if she wanted to read it better.

“Dears Santas, I want a mommy and a daddy for Christmas like everybody else,” 

Of course.

“And I wants Miss Goldie to have a family too,”

Goldie felt herself freeze.

“Becauses she’s always taking care of us. Her family must misses her lots. Love, Emily Finchinson,”

With a mound of frizzy blonde curls and big, doe-like green eyes, little Emily was so little and hopeful. And familiar. Goldie rubbed at her eyes — pretending she was frustrated with Gosalyn running by, yelling about how she was sorry for breaking the window again, but don’t worry, she was totally gonna fix it.

Emily happily held her letter back to Goldie, who took it on autopilot and let her run off.

She crumpled it in her hand and swallowed the lump in her throat.

Kids sure were full of unbroken hope before they faced the world, weren’t they?


	3. in the air there's a feeling of christmas (children laughing, people passing)

December 24th. Christmas Eve. The night before. Easily the most exciting evening of the year, for both children and adults alike. Who wouldn’t be eagerly awaiting a present or trinket, or seeing their loved ones for the first time in a while? 

Well, Goldie wasn’t, not in her case, anyway. No one would be giving her gifts and as for loved ones…

...she had to look after the kids. Even if she had loved ones, not like she had time.

And it wasn’t like the kids were that. Maybe endearing little devils, at best.

She trudged along Main Street of Duckburg, grumbling and cursing to herself that of course her motorcycle had to get stuck in a snow drift because what the hell did the taxes she (mostly) evaded paying even do. Especially on the night she went to pick up the kids’ Christmas presents; hiding them wouldn’t have been any good. They were almost as sneaky and crafty as she was. Almost, of course. She was both proud and annoyed by them.

So, with a garbage bag full of the presents slung over her shoulder, Goldie was at least grateful the walk from the SuperSavrMart wasn’t too far from the boulevard where Dawson’s was. And it wasn’t like she could catch a ride, who was driving around on Christmas Eve?

The roads were dead, as to be expected. Empty enough for some kids to be playing in the street with hockey sticks and a snowball as their puck.

Goldie rolled her eyes and could only hope they wouldn’t hit her—

“Kids, c’mon in, you’ll catch your deaths, it’s only gettin’ colder out!”

Goldie froze like the ice on the sidewalk that almost made her slip. Not from the fact she noticed it was a boy and two girls playing, and the mother who called them from a townhouse had a brogue, this was Duckburg’s immigrant neighborhood, after all. 

She was just startled.

“Oh, miss, do you need a hand?” the woman, a red-headed duck, called. “Where are you headed on a night like this?”

“Just down the block,” Goldie hollered. “I’m fine,”

“Are you sure?”

Goldie just kept walking. If she kept walking, she could ignore it and she could ignore the familiar feeling and she could ignore the fact if she closed her eyes, she remembered Dublin and cobblestone streets and being like the kids in the orphanage…

...Goldie never did like Christmas much, anyway. All the family nonsense.

** _~ ~ ~ _ **

“This doesn’t seem like the kind of digs Goldie would have,” Della muttered. “Just saying,”

Scrooge kept his hands shoved in his coat pocket, smacking away the gloves Beakley kept handing him. “I know she lives here an’ I’ll break down the door if I have to,” he grumbled. 

“Pretty sure you’d get in trouble for breaking into an orphanage,” Della retorted, every now and then pulling Donald away from the telephone pole, grumbling about how she didn’t want a repeat of Christmas 1993. And of course, Donald bickered something right back—not like anyone understood their argument once it got heated.

The kids stood beside them, waddling a bit in their snowsuits and puzzled by the whole situation.

“I’m with Mom,” Dewey piped up. “I didn’t think your girlfriend even had a house,”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Scrooge impulsively replied. “And where do you suppose she lived?”

“She doesn’t live anywhere; just floating from city to city, because nowhere truly feels like home in her icy cold heart,” Dewey said, with a dramatic tone of voice, of course.

It was quiet for a moment, and then Webby turned to him; “That actually sounds quite likely,”

Scrooge rolled his eyes and he would never say it, but he had had the same theory Dewey just presented. He was quite surprised to find Goldie actually had a place of residency she frequented. And so close by. It just further confused him why she never told him…

He suddenly shushed his family members when he heard some suddenly snow crunching, holding his cane out to keep the kids at bay.

“It can’t be,” Scrooge grumbled, squinting and noticing a silhouette dance across the nearby buildings.

And then someone — someone with a big bag and a heavy coat lined with fur — rounded the corner.

“You crimson, cantankerous, chimney-downing coward!” Scrooge bellowed. “Ye best stay away from my girl’s home!”

The figure reached to pull their ski mask down, chanting a series of no’s before they were tackled to the ground, on the hard concrete and mounds of snow on either side of the sidewalk. There was a tousle and some grunts, the black bag of presents getting a bit crushed.

Finally, Scrooge realized.

“Oh. I was thinkin’ you were a bit short to be that merry menace,”

Goldie coughed and smeared ice and snow off her face, before lowering her ski mask. “Merry Christmas to you, McDuck,” she grumbled. “I’ll remember to put an extra big lump of coal in your stocking,”

Scrooge awkwardly laughed, tucking his chin in a bit bashfully. “Merry Christmas, Goldie,” he said. “You kept ignorin’ my invitations to come over for Christmas, so I thought why not an’ go bring Christmas to you,”

And he bestowed the almost devilish grin of his, a silent way of saying_ I won. _

She wanted to punch that stupid smile off of his handsome face.

“Hi, Miss O’Gilt!” 

“Miss Aunt Goldie, nice to officially meet you. I have several questions, but first off, are those presents for us?!”

“S’up,”

Goldie glanced behind Scrooge. In that order was the pink one, the blue one and of course, Louie. The red one was too busy shivering despite wearing several coats to say anything. She looked back at him with an angry squint, because he brought in the calvary; the niece, the nephew, even the housekeeper. She almost wanted to stay lying on the sidewalk all night and into the next morning, just to spite him.

But she begrudgingly grabbed his extended hand and got up, hiking the bag back over her shoulder.

“Y’know, I don’t have time to buy presents for the rest of you,” she spoke up, heading up the steps with the McDuck family in tow.

The blue one let out a loud _“aw, man!_” and Goldie heard an _“ow!”_ follow suit from him, and she bit back a snicker.

She swung the door open, corralling the excited kids back — probably sounding too… motherly — from running out in the snow or tackling any of the new people. And making sure none of them tugged the bag of presents from her, of course.

“You all better behave yourselves for our guests or no one’s getting presents,” she declared, gently swatting away eager hands who grabbed at the giant parcel. 

The kids backed off, some with stuck-out tongues and soft disgruntled mumbles. 

Scrooge was a bit baffled but also amused. “My apologies, Goldie,” he said. “Didnae realize you already had Christmas plans,” 

He didn’t sound apologetic at all—nor did he look it. 

He grinned even more so when Goldie practically glared at him.

“You’re coming with me,” she muttered to him, hiking the bag from one shoulder to the other. “The rest of you, don’t break or touch anything,”

Of course, the three boys had already disobeyed those two commands and were off exploring—with Donald following them and telling them to be nice, they were guests in Aunt Goldie’s place. (She smirked at that slip up and made sure he saw her wave.)

As Goldie headed for the stairs, with Scrooge behind her, they stopped a few steps up when they were mildly interrogated.

“So you’re Miss O’Gee’s rich boyfriend,”

“Gos, you’re gonna get your head stuck — again,” Goldie grumbled.

With her head settled between the rails of the banister, Gosalyn rolled her eyes in response to that. “So do you guys do a lot of gross smooching on your adventures? Is she really a better adventurer than you or does she just say that? Are you ever gonna get hitched? Miss O’Gee says she’s known you for forever,”

“Lass, didnae anyone ever tell ya it’s rude to ask grown ups about their relationships?” Scrooge mused.

“Yeah, so?” was Gosalyn’s reply that baffled him.

Goldie sighed, “She’s got a mouth on her. Not my fault,”

Scrooge chuckled a bit. “Of course it isn’t,” he mused.

They continued up the stairs, ignoring Gosalyn yelling after them, “I want answers to that! Don’t break her heart, old man!”

And a moment of silence from her, followed by a soft “aw, man,” and some soft thumping.

“Told her she’d get stuck,” Goldie sighed. “Also, really, sourdough? You thought I was Who Shall Not Be Named?”

“Who else wears a fur coat and carries presents?” Scrooge argued.

Goldie dropped the bag at the top of the stairs and dragged it the rest of the way to her office. “Someone who wants to make Christmas somewhat special for these rugrats. And of course, someone who appreciates style,” She gestured to her coat, which was undoubtedly worth a lot.

Scrooge huffed, looking quite embarrassed. “Ye can never be too sure,”

“Oh, don’t worry, the merry menace isn’t stopping by here. I’ve gotten some pretty good shots at him in the past,”

She was surprised to get a kiss on the cheek in response to that. And then, she was annoyed when she noticed Scrooge had slipped a piece of mistletoe out from his jacket.

Goldie rolled her eyes. “Cute,” she said. “But I’m fairly certain that’s holly,”

Scrooge wrinkled his nose and frowned. “Blast,”

“Why don’t you make sure your little hellions aren’t tearing up the place and then meet me back up here to catch up?” Goldie smiled—only to frown a bit when Scrooge had a familiar mischievous grin. “Not like that, you dirty old man. This place is riddled with kids. I haven’t seen you in months, not even after the whole Moonvasion thing. Catch up means catch up,”

A soft _oh_ escaped Scrooge and he awkwardly backed up a bit.

But Goldie couldn’t resist.

She stole the mistletoe, holly, whatever it was and stole a kiss quickly.

“But if you’re nice this year, Scroogey, maybe you’ll get a few more Christmas kisses,”

She had to laugh as Scrooge broke out into a giddy grin and headed back downstairs to see what chaos his kin had caused this time. Goldie let out a sigh, both heavy and content.

He was bringing Christmas to her. That concept was quite foreign to her.

Usually, they bumped into each other at his famous party—which she now realized was all a ruse—or ended up forgoing the holiday to go adventure… but an actual Christmas. Goldie didn’t have to think hard about when the last one together was, but she knew it was a long time ago.

She figured one Christmas together wouldn’t hurt.


	4. you're the best present ever (life's a snowglobe when we're together)

After reprimanding the kids for getting into everything (and reprimanding Della for eating all the candy canes off the tree, she’d give herself a stomach-ache like she used to do every year), Scrooge made his way back upstairs. The walk was short but he had a long train of thought following him.

Goldie.

His Goldie, spent her days surrounded by children? Looking after them? He had many theories about what she did when she wasn’t around, but that never once crossed his mind. Why would it? She was Goldie. Loved gold and riches and luxury more than anything. He could only imagine the bills she had to pay for—however many young'uns she had running around here, he lost count after thirteen.

He gently pushed the door to her office open; to find the bag of presents in the corner, a steaming hot mug on the desk and a chill in the air.

“Took you long enough,” her voice chimed in the air, dancing with the brisk breeze.

Scrooge smiled a bit and took the cup, hot chocolate with a single peppermint candy floating in it. He stepped out onto the balcony, where Goldie stood. Her smile was different, he noted.

Not mischievous or sly or indicating she was up to anything.

It was… content.

It was a good look for her. But he kept it to himself.

He stood beside her, looking up at the sky, trying to see the shimmering stars beyond the twinkling holiday lights that the city hung up all over lamp posts and windows. She side-eyed him a bit before leaning in to give him a nudge.

“So,” Goldie smirked over her cup of hot chocolate, slipping a flask out from her pants pocket and spilling a bit inside the warm beverage. “Your girl,”

Clearly, Scrooge didn’t forget either. He shrunk into himself a bit and bashfully grinned. “What?” he said innocently. “Not like there’s anything else I can call you,” He sipped his own hot chocolate, almost leaning against Goldie as they stood on the stone balcony of the old building.

The snow fluttered down in the almost Christmas magic way, slowly and wispy.

“That sweater is ghastly, y’know,” he commented.

Goldie rolled her eyes and glanced at the red sweater she wore; white letters boldly stating _**Santa, I can explain**_. “What? Nothing wrong with getting in on the Christmas commercialism, right?” She sipped her cocoa and chuckled, “Besides, the kids think it’s funny. They think I’m an innocent. They don’t know what I _really_ get up to,”

A huff escaped Scrooge, wisps of his breath becoming little fog clouds in between them.

“I wanted to ask,” His voice trailed off. “Why didnae ye tell me?”

“Because this isn’t a charity case,” Goldie said simply, like she had rehearsed this. And maybe she had. She figured this day would come. “And I know you would want to help me with it. This is my thing outside of adventuring, Scrooge. You have yours,”

He skeptically raised an eyebrow at her.

“My ‘thing’ outside of adventuring is my family. Is that what yer trying to say this is?”

Goldie barely had time to pause and just shrugged. “It keeps me busy and keeps me out of trouble. That good enough for you?”

“It isn’t, but I know ye won’t elaborate,” he retorted, with a knowing smirk. “Can ye at least tell me how long it’s been goin’ on?”

“About fifty years,”

She took another sip of her hot chocolate and he nearly spit his out.

“Fifty years?!” he echoed.

“Five, zero,” Goldie affirmed. “I got bored. Saw too many kids on the street. Threw ‘em under a roof and let them have a warm place to sleep. Gave them three hots and a cot. What else was I supposed to do with all that adventuring treasure?”

Scrooge guffawed a bit. “I always thought Glittering Goldie would never tire of shopping,”

She smirked at him. “Oh, trust me, I put a comfortable amount for splurging in the monthly budget,”

“You’re a businesswoman,” His words were breathless, his eyes wide and his expression smitten. “Just when I thought I couldnae love ye anymore, O’Gilt,” 

A laugh escaped Goldie and she placed her warm beverage on the cold stone balcony of the old building. She stared out at the city skyline, twinkling, hopeful, perhaps a bit like a captured-in-a-snowglobe moment. Her gaze drifted when Scrooge rested a hand on hers.

And she couldn’t help but sigh a bit before confessing, “I really care about these kids, y’know,”

“I could tell ye do,” he whispered. “Not easy to melt the Ice Queen’s heart,”

Goldie smirked a bit. “You must be this tall to pull on my heartstrings,” she joked, waving a hand about waist length. She exhaled a bit. “A lot of them get adopted. Or have been, in recent years, anyway. Usually I just helped them until they could take care of themselves,”

Her voice trailed off.

Scrooge looked at her, musing and melancholy. “Goldie—”

“I had my reasons for starting Dawson’s,” she said firmly. “And it’s where I’ve been spending my Christmases since you were so curious,”

“I think it’s wonderful,”

His words were firm and loving. It made her tuck her chin in a bit and look away, just for a moment. Blink-and-you-miss-it, as per the usual for Goldie O’Gilt and emotional vulnerability.

“Well,” She almost wavered. Almost. “I should probably go and give the little hellions their gifts,”

“Do ye have one more moment?” Scrooge asked, taking the hand he still held and kissing her cold fingertips that peeked out of her fashionable-but-impractical fingerless gloves. 

Goldie rolled her eyes. “Make it count,”

Instantly, her eyes widened when she noticed him open his coat and pull out a velvet box. Nothing could quite catch her eye like luxury. Sure, she was a girl fond of fur coats and designer brands, but anyone and everyone knew a good gem or some gold was her kryptonite. 

Scrooge grumbled a bit about how expensive Swanrovski was before handing the box over to Goldie, who obviously opened it with excited glee, almost breaking the latch.

She expected a diamond choker. 

Or a charm bracelet with rubies and pearls.

Maybe emerald earrings to complement her eyes.

And yet, all she saw was a golden key.

“What is this, a key to the city or something?”

Scrooge gently pried the velvet case out of her hands and slipped the key in it’s entirety out of the elegant container. “Not quite,” he almost hummed. The key hung on an elegant gold and silver figaro chain, each link alternating between the two precious metals. “A key to my home,”

Goldie was puzzled, but accepted it nonetheless. Gold was gold.

“Well, that’s sweet, but it’s a bit useless,” she murmured, already thinking of all the pawn shops in a ten mile radius. “I always go through the window,”

“I’m not talkin’ about the mansion, _astór,_” 

And with that said, Scrooge gently took her hand into his own once more — the one that held the key and chain — and rested it on his chest, below his slow, contently beating heart.

Goldie blushed. And stammered, and her hand began to tremble underneath Scrooge’s grip.

“Of all the stupid, sentimental meanings a gift could have,”

“All else fails, it can just be another shiny thing for ye to wear,” 

She began to splutter out any sort of comeback or remark, but fell short of doing so. She noticed how tender and smitten Scrooge looked, and maybe a little proud of himself too, for rendering her speechless. The only reply that would suffice, Goldie realized, was a firm kiss that Scrooge all too happily returned with gusto and joy.

“Merry Christmas, Goldie girl,” was what he murmured when they parted.

Goldie smiled and cupped his face, her fingers threading through his whiskers. 

“Merry Christmas, Scrooge,” She huffed out a small, rueful laugh. “Sorry I didn’t get you anything,”

Scrooge’s smile grew three sizes, like the heart of a similar Christmas-despising grouch. “Ye gave me a proper Christmas with you,” he whispered. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Haven’t had one of those since Klondike days, y’know,”

She kept gently stroking his whiskers and he leaned into her touch. “Careful with all that sap, you’ll make a girl sick,”

Scrooge’s only response was another kiss, softer than before but just as earnest.

Their hot chocolates sat on the balcony railing, forgotten and cold. But together, embraced and enjoying the holiday, they found each other for the holiday and their hearts were warm. For the first time in a very, very long time, Goldie was starting to enjoy Christmas.


	5. you are the angel atop my tree (you are my dream come true)

“So, let me ask you something,” Goldie mused as they made their way back downstairs, with several shopping bags in one hand and Scrooge’s hand in her other. And she wore the necklace, the literal key to his old, foolish sentimental heart, tucked under her sweater. This was one luxurious item she didn’t feel like flaunting. “Seeing how you tried to grill me up there,”

Scrooge rolled his eyes a bit but squeezed her hand a bit in response.

“Was the Christmas party a whole ruse to get me to show up?”

“Well, sort of—”

“Taking a page out of Catsby?”

Scrooge huffed. “Not in the beginning it wasn’t,” he argued. “But over the years,” They lingered at the middle of the stairs, watching the comforting commotion that awaited them. “Maybe. I knew ye always showed up,”

Goldie smiled victoriously. 

“I knew ye wouldnae come, though,” he added. “The invitation was jes to get yer attention, there was no party planned. I don’t have the party anymore. Not in years,” He suddenly looked gloomy, and it puzzled her. It was her turn to squeeze his hand in silent encouragement.

Looking over the banister, he saw Donald and Della laughing and occasionally playfully shoving each other.

Before it wasn’t playful anymore.

And then they began wrestling. 

And they were probably going to knock something over.

“It took them years to love Christmas again, y’know,” he mumbled. “I wasnae much help to them,”

Goldie furrowed her brow. 

Scrooge looked at her, with sad and heavy eyes. “Twenty seven years ago yesterday was the last time I saw Hortense,”

“Oh,” was all Goldie could manage. He had sisters. She could be forgiven for forgetting the fact because he seldom talked about them. She pulled him a little closer in a side-hug and he held her hand a little tighter, like she was the life preserver and he was drowning.

“The Christmas party was also her early birthday party,”

“She always _was_ the wildest attendant. Made out with that housekeeper of yours one year,”

“That was before she met Quackmore,” Scrooge sighed, with a shake of his head. “I miss him too. Good lad,” He faltered. “Donald reminds me of him,”

It was quiet between the two of them. 

It felt like they were frozen in time. But it wasn’t quite magical.

He exhaled and finally managed to look at Goldie, his expression bittersweet. “But neither of them would want me to be downtrodden, ‘specially this long,” he admitted. “I have everyone back. I shouldnae be living in the past. I have my family,”

“And what about me?” Goldie impulsively, cheekily replied.

Scrooge leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I said my family,” he quipped. 

The kids clamored for her, excitedly yelling_ “Miss O’Gilt, Miss O’Gilt!”_ before she could even register her response. Finishing the rest of their way down, Goldie calmed them down as she began to dig through the shopping bags for presents—she knew that was all they wanted.

“Hey, Miss O’Gilt, how do you know Scrooge McDuck?” one of the kids asked.

Goldie floundered.

Scrooge paled and immediately yanked his hand out of hers like it was on fire.

They panickedly glanced at one another. Dealing with his family’s pestering was enough. And so, to avoid questions from pesky children, Scrooge cleared his throat and cracked his knuckles. “Who’s up for caroling?” he asked. “You young’uns know what that is, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” one young Canadian goose replied, with a roll of their eyes. “Christmas tunes,”

“We already got those going,” a little swan girl replied. “On the Bluetooth speaker,”

Scrooge nodded and did hear some Christmas music playing from the other room—but then furrowed his brow. “Now what do blue teeth have to do with anything,” he asked, almost to himself, and much to the amusement of the children.

“Why don’t you kids baffle with the nice old man with more fancy technology terms,” Goldie piped up, with a smirk. “I’ve got some things to take care of,”

As the children grabbed his sleeves and began to drag him, Scrooge quipped back; “What, are ye going to bake some Christmas cookies for the wee bairns after ye hand out presents?”

He couldn’t resist when Goldie responded by softly punching him in the arm.

“You know I’m a terrible baker,” she called after him. “Any cookies you eat here are store bought,”

He yelled something back about how the coffee was probably spiked, though, and she rolled her eyes in amusement. It was one time—okay, maybe several times that she would later regret and look back on realizing such a cruel act brought her with such an… intriguing man.

Yes, that was the word for it.

Goldie O’Gilt had had enough vulnerability for one night. She was all used up. No more.

That was she was telling herself, anyway. The universe liked to disagree with her, especially recently with the whole sensitive and feelings nonsense.

She halted in getting ready to do the roundabout and give all the kids their gifts.

Because apparently, one rambunctious little ruffian already got hers.

“What?” Gosalyn said, somehow unstuck from the railing. “I only opened mine,” 

She sat on the floor under the stairs, away from prying eyes and newspaper wrapping scattered around her. She happily held up the box that was faded from years past, boasting the logo of the old Darkwing Duck television show—Goldie knew she should have thrown out the VHS’s ages ago, but apparently never did. Gosalyn had been a fanatic ever since.

And that present was a fortune online.

“Hell yeah!” Gosalyn beamed.

“Language,” Goldie impulsively replied.

Gosalyn was too busy opening the box to even acknowledge the correction and tore tissue paper out, flinging it side to side.

An alarm clock, in the shape of Darkwing’s all too famous gas gun that he thwarted and distracted many enemies with. Mint condition too. Goldie had spent hours online bidding for that damn thing, just to make the kid smile.

It was worth every cent.

Gosalyn held up the gift and marveled in the details, in the controls, every little piece of it.

She was so happy.

Goldie felt… happy for her. Of course she did. But she also felt bad. She should tell her. Tomorrow, after all, was the day.

“Gos,” she said softly. “There’s something else I wanted to give you this Christmas,”

“I don’t celebrate Christmas, but thanks anyway,” Gosalyn retorted, with a smirk. She was happily fiddling with the controls on the gas-gun shaped alarm clock. “But if you gave me eight presents, everyone would know I was your favorite,”

It was a cute little quip, classic for the two of them.

But it wasn’t exactly far from the truth, was it now?

Goldie lowered her head a bit and sighed heavily. Gosalyn immediately noticed the shift in attitude and deflated a bit.

“Miss O’Gee? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, kiddo. It’s the exact opposite,” Goldie let out an awkward cough-laugh sound and her shoulders fell a bit. “I… I’m gonna miss you,” She only realized she worded that poorly when Gosalyn dropped the vintage Darkwing Duck merchandise, letting it carelessly clatter to the floor.

“Wha—am I going to a different house?!”

“Yes! No!” Goldie floundered and stammered, almost dropping the bags with all the other gifts. “Yes, you’re going to a different house, but a real one!”

Gosalyn blinked. 

Her dark green eyes suddenly flooded with tears and her hands, scabbed from nervous feather-plucking, shook. “I got adopted?” she said, her husky voice a little shaky, almost shy.

Goldie nodded. “Yeah, kiddo. I told you, I keep my promises,”

Well, sometimes. Only for rowdy, endearing kids, it seems.

Gosalyn broke out into a grin and shot to her feet, almost bouncing up and down in place. “Who adopted me? When are they coming? Are they cool? Am I gonna have brothers or sisters?” The questions were quick, flowing out of her, probably things she had wondered for quite some time now.

They were hitting Goldie at every angle. 

And the fact that the doorbell rang threw her for even more of a loop.

“Scrooge, can you get that?” she hollered.

What the hell was that, she thought to herself. Asking him to answer the door for her. What were they, some domestic couple who lived together with the dog and picket fence? Goldie hated dogs, anyway. But that was besides the point…

The door swung open, letting cold air glide through, and Goldie reluctantly put the bags down—the kids already sweeping in like vultures.

“It’s jes some purple weirdo,” Scrooge said.

And further proving his statement, the character at the door spoke up and introduced himself.

“I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the only working bulb on a string of broken Christmas lights! I am—”

“A huge nerd,” Gosalyn hollered, tearing through the crowd to tumble forwards with a gleeful grin and a bit of a jump, right into the arms of Calisota’s newest caped crusader. “You, Darkwing Duck, came to see me on Christmas?!”

Darkwing beamed, hoisting Gosalyn and letting her sit on his shoulders. “Not just see you, young citizen, but to— uh, to escort you! My, er, butler wants to adopt you!”

“Does he now?” Gosalyn smirked, eager to steal his hat and place it upon her own head, despite being far too big for her. And then, it sunk in. The hat drooped while a soft gasp escaped her. She was quiet, almost still.

She was placed back down on the ground and Darkwing knelt down next to her.

“Really?” she whispered, wringing the brim of the hat in her hands.

“Really,” he murmured, giving a knowing wink.

“You,” Gosalyn coughed. “You really wanna adopt me?”

“Isn’t Darkwing best known for taking on a challenge?”

Amidst her sniffles, Gosalyn managed a nod and a tiny laugh of disbelief. “Oh, wow. Wow,” She kept fidgeting with the hat. “Hey, uh, Dra—Darkwing, can we spend Christmas here, though? It’s not even my holiday, but I don’t wanna leave Miss O’Gee and all the other kids today,”

Clearly hiding his snicker at the nickname, Darkwing quickly cleared his throat. 

“Of course, Gosalyn,”

She smiled and dove in for another hug, her tiny arms pulling him in with all the strength she could muster (which was quite a bit for a nine year old, and baffled him).

“Oh! I gotta show you what I got for Christmas! You’ll totally nerd out over it!”

“I am not a nerd,” Darkwing grumbled, blushing a bit under his mask and smiling bashfully.

Gosalyn tore off through the crowd of kids and guests, scrambling to find her gift. And as she did so, the caped crusader was faced with a new foe for the evening. 

The intimidating, overprotective (as much as she denied it) owner of the foster home, of course.

“I thought you wanted to adopt her on Christmas morning,” Goldie said, with squinted eyes.

Darkwing stammered and cleared his throat. “Well, my butler — that I obviously have, as a super cool, super strong vigilante — was rather impatient and since I was finishing up patrol, he asked me to swing by and pick up Gosalyn,” He trailed off.

“There is no butler,” she murmured; not asking him, but telling him.

“How could you tell,” he said, almost shirking back.

“You could at least disguise your voice a little. Can’t outcon a con artist,”

Darkwing deflated a little in his costume and awkwardly chuckle.

Goldie rolled her eyes. “With you and Gizmodork, you’re putting the city in more danger than safety,” she grumbled.

“Hey!”

She snickered and he winced.

“Right. Another joke,”

“Oh, no, I was serious,”

Darkwing mildly glared at her. Goldie just shrugged at him.

“But I guess I can go easy on you, just this once,” They both glanced at Gosalyn, eagerly chatting it up to the boys and Webby about how excited she was to have a family now, and how she would definitely be hanging out with all of them once she got settled into her new home— she had a home! And two cool new dads! And she couldn’t wait for her new friends to meet her new dads!

Darkwing cleared his throat and spoke up, “Thank you. A lot of places just brushed me off,”

“It was the cape, wasn’t it?” Goldie asked. “That one was a joke, by the way,”

“Heh. Two dads and— they’re… fine with it, but somehow, it never pans out,”

He didn’t let that damper him. He was joyful, excited. Goldie knew she found the right one.

“Well, Merry Christmas. Or happy whatever it is you guys are gonna celebrate with her,” she smiled. “You guys are perfect for her,”

“Thank you,” Darkwing sighed. “And Merry Christmas,” He paused and smirked. “Miss O’Gee,”

She glared at him sharply enough to make him actually take a step back. 

“That’s Gosalyn-only,”

“Fair enough, fair enough,”

And then, Goldie softened up. Just a smidge. “She has that effect on people,”

“Heh. Yeah, she’s already called my boyfriend ‘Launchdad’—” Goldie stared at him with wide, surprised eyes and an amused grin. Darkwing winced. “I mean, uh, that’s what she calls my butler’s boyfriend,”

“You really need to work on this whole secret identity thing,”

Darkwing sighed and hung his head. “Yeah, I kinda do,”

Goldie’s mischievous smile turned into something softer. Almost kind. Almost heartfelt. “Well, go enjoy the holiday with your new daughter. Congrats and all that,” she said, gesturing as Gosalyn rushed back over to tackle her tiny body against Darkwing in a hug—actually making him stumble a bit, before she dragged him over to meet her new friends.

Smiling to herself and a content sigh slipping past her lips, Goldie was lost in her own little world for a moment, that she was almost startled by Scrooge coming up behind her for a hug. She laughed and rested her hands on his.

“Lookit you. Doin’ good deeds, giving out presents. Ye could give that ho-ho hooligan a run for his money,”

“Oh, please,” Goldie scoffed. “I’m busy enough,” 

Scrooge nuzzled her cheek and quickly kissed it, quick enough that no one would notice and start teasing them.

“Thank you, Goldie. For giving me the merriest Christmas of them all,”

“I try,” 

He nudged her, making her laugh. Maybe it was some sort of cliche but maybe, Goldie thought, this was what Christmas was about—if cheesy television specials were to believed. The ones she cared for. Being happy. Feeling comfortable and content.

There was a chorus of disappointed grumbles from the kids, alerting the two of them out of their sweet moment.

“Hey, Miss O’Gilt, Jesse broke the speaker—”

“I did not! Kylie was the one who knocked it over!”

“No, it was you!”

Goldie rolled her eyes and shushed the commotion by waving a hand; perhaps perplexing her semi-unwanted guests. Hell, she even got a whispered “_Impressive_” from Beakley. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes while trying to calm the disgruntled children.

“So just turn on the radio,” she said flippantly. 

“What’s a radio?” 

“Oh my gosh, how long have I been gone?” Della mumbled.

Of all the statements that could make Goldie feel ancient. She stood there, hands on her hips, stewing over ideas. Like she knew how to fix that technology crap.

“Y’know, kids,” Scrooge piped up, which both intrigued and confused Goldie. “Who needs your fancy speakers an’ radios?”

“How else are we gonna get Christmas tunes?” 

Scrooge scoffed—and then, oh no. He gestured right to Goldie. “You kids have the Star of the North right here! The most talented lass of the Klondike!” Naturally, the children were confused and so, Scrooge further egged it on and Goldie wanted to tackle him for the second time that evening. “A voice of gold! Dawson’s finest singer!”

“Scrooge—”

And then the kids began clamoring for her to sing. She sang for crowds that would shower her with dollar bills and gold nuggets, not pesky little anklebiters.

But it was Christmas.

And this Christmas, Goldie was doing a lot of things she didn’t usually do.

“Please, Miss Goldie,” Little Emily was now tugging her hand, smiling with that gap-toothed grin of hers. “Sings for us. And your familys,”

Goldie couldn’t dispute it. The closest thing she had to family were her miserable sourdough, the clever sharpie, the scrappy underdog who had all won her heart… and the others, well, they were just there. Maybe Emily’s silly Christmas wish came true. 

Miss Goldie got a family for Christmas, after all.

“Fine,” Goldie sighed—picking up little Emily and letting her sit on her shoulders. “But one song. That’s all you get,”

The kids cheered, of course, but perhaps it was Scrooge who cheered the loudest with a knowing smirk and twinkle in his eye. Goldie gave him an annoyed look, but knew there was adoration in her gaze and grin at him.

Back at the saloon in Dawson, there was always a piano, sometimes a guitar or harp.

Goldie had nothing but her voice and an eager crowd now. 

She cleared her throat and hummed a few bars, trying to think of a Christmas song. When was the last time she actually heard one, rather than turning it off out of disdain for the holiday?

_“Greeting cards have all been sent,”_ she crooned—Scrooge wasn’t wrong, she still had that golden voice that could turn heads and capture hearts. _“The Christmas rush is through, but I still have one wish to make, a special one for you,”_

The snow flickered outside. The kids and adults alike were content in the Christmas atmosphere.

And Goldie could admit, at least to herself, that maybe the holiday wasn’t so bad.

_“Merry Christmas, darling— we’re apart, that’s true, but I can dream and in my dreams, I’m Christmasing with you,”_

Maybe she was living that sort of cliche moment where she’d normally be annoyed; with this forced-upon get together as her snowed-in scenario, with Gosalyn as her Tiny Tim who taught her what Christmas was all about, with Scrooge as her holiday beau. (Maybe she was the one who had seen too many Hall-Lark movies.) Maybe that was okay. Maybe she was indeed having a very merry Christmas with, dare she even think it, her family. Something she hadn’t had in over a century.

And she was _happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All we have left is the epilogue! (Which will have another surprise character, and I will give the tracklist of my fave xmas songs that inspired this fic, because I'm a nerd like that.) Thanks to all who have read, bookmarked, kudo'sed and commented on this story! Happy holidays!


	6. the prettiest picture you've ever seen (is christmas in killarney)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic mini-playlist !!!
> 
> title of the story: it’s not christmas without you by victoria justice, ariana grande + liz gillies  
chapter one: humbug by owl city  
chapter two: believe by josh groban  
chapter three: silver bells by martina mcbride  
chapter four: silver nights by sabrina carpenter  
chapter five: all i want for christmas is you by vince vance and the valiants (+ merry christmas darling by christina perri)  
epilogue: christmas in killarney by the irish rovers

The night had slowed down, but the holiday cheer still remained. It was subtle, it was in the air, like all the damn glitter from the tinsel and toys the kids were playing with. Speaking of the kids, they had finally settled down and gotten all the Christmas cheer (sugar) out of their systems and settled down. Now, it was pitch black with only the holiday lights to illuminate the evening and the credits for the black-and-white Christmas movie rolled and all the kids were asleep; Donald, Della and Beakley had decided to take the kids back to the manor, and Darkwing decided to take a tired Gosalyn for her first night home. 

But Scrooge stayed. 

He always did. 

Goldie was slightly squished under his weight, for he was passed out as well, softly snoring and his glasses askew. He said he didn’t want to leave, it was his favorite holiday movie. And as true as that was — the whole ‘_money is important but family is worth more_’ message was something he was certainly emanating now — she knew it was more than that.

She brushed his whiskers sweetly before taking his glasses and gently tossing them onto the coffee table. No one stirred. No one to disturb her in this serene moment.

Goldie awkwardly slipped a hand into her pocket and took out her wallet. She reached behind the ID slot where pictures of a roguish, much younger Scrooge and an adorably awkward Louie were.

She had one more picture in her wallet. With the corner torn off to keep… a certain someone out, the old photograph, incredibly worn and taped to repair more times than Goldie could count, she stared at it with a sad smile.

A lump formed in her throat.

The setting and year was scribbled in the corner, Dublin 1873. 

It was a family. A mother, holding the hands of two identical young girls, no older than five, and a smiling young boy who looked a little older off to the side. Wearing tattered clothes and beaming smiles. Perhaps if they were the ones in a cheesy holiday film, they would be described as poor but rich in love.

But they had been no such thing.

The ending song for the old movie began to play and Goldie wasn’t paying it much mind at first.

She barely paid attention but the lyrics she caught made her snort.

_Silver and gold, silver and gold, everyone wishes for silver and gold_ sang the crooner as the credits began to fade off into a black screen. Her thumbs rested on the girls in the picture, their namesakes sung by the performer from decades ago. So young. So naive. So unaware of what the future held for them; how ambition had kept them together and greed drove them apart. 

“Merry Christmas, guys,” she mumbled before slipping the photograph back into her wallet and snapping it shut.

Perfect timing, because Scrooge just began to stir. “Did I miss the ending again?” he grumbled. “I never catch it. Sixteenth year in a row,”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “He learned the true meaning of Christmas or something like that,”

“Did he? Good for him,” Scrooge sleepily mumbled, pulling the checkered blanket closer to his body.

“Do you want to head upstairs? There’s room for two in my bed,”

“You’re comfier than any bed,”

Goldie chuckled a bit. “Shame, I was gonna give you a Christmas bonus,” she joked.

“Ye stop that, you dirty old woman. There’s wee bairns ‘round,” Scrooge mumbled, his voice muffled a bit as he drooped over a bit and had his face in the crook of her neck.

“You’re right. I’ll save it for New Years,”

“Yer insufferable,”

She laughed a little more to herself and wrapped her arm around him. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling his content sigh against her. The tree’s lights alternated in color — she never bought a real one, too messy and too expensive — like little spotlights over them and all the kids that had camped out in the living room.

It was a silent night indeed.

Goldie decided she wasn’t going anywhere, and fluttered her eyes shut to rest along with everyone else.

That is, until there came a tapping on this Christmas Eve. Not upon the roof, no. 

It was at the door. At this hour, however late it was.

Scrooge stirred again and let out a soft groan, but Goldie placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I’ll get it,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And if it’s you know who, I’ll let you handle him,”

Scrooge yawned and weakly put up a pair of fists, getting a laugh out of her. She awkwardly sat up — she forgot how old she was until she spent too long on a couch — and went to the door, peeking through the peephole before shaking her head a bit at who she saw.

“You’re late,” is what she greeted her visitor with.

With a Santa hat on and her gloved hands pressed to her cold cheeks to keep them warm, the young woman laughed. “Actually, you said to be home in time for Christmas; not Christmas Eve,”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “No one likes a smart ass, Dickie,”

“Well, a very Merry Christmas to you too, Gigi,” Dickie replied, shoving scruffy golden locks back under her hat.

Goldie extended the door a bit and smiled. “C’mon in,” She paused before softly sighing, almost mumbling to herself, “Seems like we’ve got an extra guest to spend Christmas with,”

Dickie stepped inside, snowy boots and all, before kissing Goldie’s forehead and ruffling her hair. 

“I missed you. I missed being home,” she said.

“You missed remembering how much taller you are than me,” Goldie quipped, giving a soft punch to Dickie’s jaw. 

There was an eyeroll and a shrug. But as there always was with Dickie, a smile too, a ray of sunshine plucked from the heavens and gifted to this young woman. And it made Goldie smile right back—at perhaps the first soul who made her realize what family was supposed to feel like. That whole… unbridled caring nonsense.

It wasn’t always nonsense to her. The Queen of the Klondike had a heart alright, it was just shielded by ice and years of ache.

“I think I’ve got some leftover hot cocoa,” Goldie murmured. “Let me get that going and you can tell me where you disappeared to,”

“I was gone for three months. At college,” Dickie laughed.

Goldie squeezed her hand and smirked a bit. “That’s too long. I’m old and frail and need your help,”

Dickie fiddled with her scarf. “You can just say you missed me,”

“Nah. That’s too simple,”

They both quietly chuckled, smiling softly and embracing that not-quite-nonsense of the holidays and enjoying it with the ones you loved.

“Merry Christmas, Dickie,”

“Merry Christmas, Gigi,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I write a story about Dickie? Goldie's family and heartache? More Scroldie and their families goodness? The answer to all of those is probably, just give me time, lmao.
> 
> Thanks to all who stuck through with this story! I'm glad you enjoyed; and the happiest of holidays to you!

**Author's Note:**

> fanfics like this are made possible by comments like you!  
~reagan


End file.
